Mary Alice Brandon: Forgotten Memories
by TaylxBayl
Summary: Mary Alice Brandon was never a normal girl. Her strange and unknown 'condition' often lead to ridicule. Her life was not all too happy. Alice's life before she was changed in the assylum. Please review it. I eally like feedback.
1. Life of a 'Normal' Girl

**A/N: I had this idea for a while. This story will be about Alice's life efore she got changed. I never read a story like this before. I have the whole thing outlined so updates would hopefully be frequent! I know this first chapter might be a little slow, but it is pretty much an introduction. I hope you all enjoy it!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Not even the computer I am typing on.**

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"Mary, darling, dinnertime!" The musical voice of my mother beckoned for me. I obeyed and lithely descended the staircase into the foyer. From there, I entered the picturesque dinning room. The dark mahogany table was set elegantly, as it was every other night. Crème linen napkins with gold plated rings were atop the fine china that my mother adored. My mother, father, and younger sister, Cynthia, were already seated around the spacious table. I took my place I usually sat at and looked intently at my plate, as I was supposed to.

My long, midnight black hair, a trait I inherited from my father, fell over my shoulders. My mother gave me a nod, signaling that I should tie is back for dinner. I swept my hair up with a crimson ribbon; a color that mother told me looked striking against my dark hair and pale features.

The maids brought out our tomato soup and my father decided it was time to strike up a conversation. His soft, southern accent described in full detail his day at the office. He worked for the bank, earning a more than modest salary. I was not fully interested in all of the business he talked about, so I sipped at my soup and nodded along with what he said and laughed at the appropriate moments. When our soup was replaced with the main course, chicken and sweet peas, I partook in the conversation.

"Mary, what has your day been like," my father asked me.

"Today, I started off with my scripture reading as usual," I began. My family was very religious. I attended church every Sunday and my mother had my sister and I read the Bible for our first lesson in the morning. "Then, I went off to school. The day passed as normal." I excelled in school, especially during Language Arts. I was fond of literature and writing. I fancied a career in journalism. My mother frowned upon it, saying a lady's proper place is in the home. "After school," I continued, "I had my ballet lessons." Ballet was another passion of mine. I have been dancing since I was old enough to walk. Mother insisted my natural ability for ballet was due to my already present grace. All I knew is that when I was on point, expressing myself in the melodies of violins, flutes, cellos, and trumpets, I felt like a princess.

"Mary and I are being featured in the ballet recital this year father, isn't that wonderful!" Cynthia exclaimed. She was twelve years old, and already as good of a dancer as I was. She looked at me as a role model, although I could have picked a much better role model for my younger sister. Her short, chestnut hair was like my mother's, the side neatly tied out of her face with a light blue ribbon. She was about three inches taller than I was. It was often said that I could pass as a ten year old girl, not a seventeen year old one. My tiny features were that from my mother, the only traits I inherited from her.

My father looked at us. He was pleased that we – I, rather – would be featured in something like a normal girl.

A normal girl – that is a thing I knew that I would never be.

Cynthia furthered her discussion with my father about the dance we were featured in. My mother smiled at my and I could not help to smile back. She was desperately attempting to resurrect the happiness and joy that once filled me.

I was always a cheerful girl. A smile was constantly on my face. I was told by my family that I could light up a room with my smile. I was full of laughter and optimism. Then, people began to discover my condition. It was hard to be cheerful when you were constantly mocked.

Still, when I was around my mother, I hid behind a delicate façade, letting an empty smile appear on my pale face and laughing quietly. I tried my hardest not to let the things that the other children, and even some of the adults, in my town make me upset. It was more difficult than I thought.

I picked at the food that was on my plate. I only ate about half of my chicken and very few sweet peas. I did not have a large appetite anymore.

"May I please be excused?" I asked. I kept my eyes adverted from looking my parents directly in the eyes, showing them some respect.

"Wouldn't you care for desert? The cook made apple pie tonight. Isn't that your favorite?" My mother fretted over me. It was true; apple pie was my favorite desert. But, I was not in the mood to eat. I had other things to think about.

My large, blue eyes locked with my mother's caramel ones.

"That's alright. I would much prefer to get some rest. It has been an awfully long day." I sat up, smoothing my grey plaid dress as I did so. I left the dining room, only hearing the sounds of my shoes meeting the wooden floors. I knew that once my sister left the table, the conversation will quickly become about my latest episode.

When I entered my room, I sat on the corner of my four poster bed. I hugged my slender legs to my chest and contemplated what was happening in my life. Everything was becoming increasingly difficult. I did not know how to stop my condition. It was only a matter of time before my mother and father decided it was time to visit a doctor.

I heard knuckles rapping on my open bedroom door, asking permission for the person to enter. It was Cynthia. She did not wait for an answer. She hopped on my bed and sprawled herself across it. She removed her navy shoes and crossed her stocking-covered ankles. She gazed up at me with her wide set blue eyes with the innocence of a young girl. Even though her appearance often lead adults to believe she was the oldest child in the Brandon family, she clearly acted like the age she was, allowing me to be the big sister.

I smiled at Cynthia and began to tickle her sides. It was something I would do ever since she was a toddler. She giggled wildly, kicking her feet, causing me to have a fit of giggles as well. That was when I hear another knock on my open door. It was my father.

"Cynthia, your mother would like for you to go and get cleaned up for bed. She reluctantly got off of my bed, grabbed her shoes, and skipped down the hallway into her own room. My father stayed with me, now occupying Cynthia's spot on my bed.

He had a stuffed bear in his hands. It was obviously a gift for me.

"Mary, I bought this for you. I thought that it would cheer you up a bit," my father said, handing me the bear. My father was never typically one for emotion. This was obviously my mother's doing.

I held the stuffed bear in my arms. I traced my fingers over the black marble eyes and the button nose. I traced patterns in its fur, my father staring at me the whole time. He then wrapped his arm around me, giving my shoulder a slight squeeze before getting up and exiting my room. He stuck his head back in the doorway.

"Your mother, sister, and I love you very much, no matter what. I hope you know that." I looked up from the bear but he was gone, probably off to discuss various matters with my mother.

I thought it was rather strange that my parents were going through such great measures to improve my mood. It was not until recently that they were severely concerned by the affects of my condition.

I began to get myself ready for bed. I unzipped my plaid dress and removed my black stockings. I pulled a white cotton night gown over my head. I sat at my vanity and began to brush my hair.

I looked at myself in the mirror. I looked like a normal girl, very pretty even. My eyes were big and a shocking shade of blue. My raven hair was long and silky. My pale skin was smooth as porcelain. On the inside, in my mind, I was anything but pretty.

I had to turn away from the mirror. I knew that Cynthia was bound to reenter and wish me a good night. As if on cue, her tiny feet shuffled across the floor and she was in my room instantaneously. She saw the stuffed bear on my bed and picked it up.

"What are you going to name it?" she asked. Leave it to my little sister to want me, a seventeen year old girl name a stuffed animal. She tossed the bear to me and I held in close to my chest. I closed me eyes and whispered the first name that came to my mind – Jasper.

"Jasper," I said loud enough for my sister to hear.

"Jasper? That's not quite a popular name. Why did you choose that for you bear? Why did you not choose fluffy or something like that?" Cynthia inquired. It was a rather good question. You almost never heard of someone being named Jasper anymore.

I shrugged, indicating that I did not know why I picked the name. Cynthia sighed and with a quiet "G'night" she left my room.

There was a reason why I chose the name Jasper, despite telling my sister I had none. It was a name that has been coming to me for years now. He was the character in my most recent episodes. I grew quite attached and wondered if we would ever meet or if I had been imagining him for the past few months.

"Jasper," I whispered to myself, clutching the bear to my chest as I turned off my lights and crawled under my covers for a deep, long slumber.


	2. Prayer for Conditions

**A/N: Here it is, chapter 2! Sorry for the long wait. I wanted to finished the third chapter of this before I posted this. My goal is to get at least 5 reviews on this chapter before I post the next one. So please, review! It lets me know what part of my story is good and what part is not so great. So...enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: If I tried to even _think_ I owned Twilight, Edward would laugh at me. **

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I woke up the next morning to my mother drawing my curtains for me. I was accustomed to her doing so, as it was an effective method of getting me out of my cozy bed.

"Mary Alice Brandon, rise and shine!" my mother sang. She then disappeared into the hallway. I was too comfortable and did not want to get out of bed. Jasper was still in my arms. I had no memory of my dream last night if I had one. I never could remember my dreams. When the girls in class would talk about there various dreams the night before, I would only pretend to listen. I could not fully partake in the conversation. It was another reason why I was slowly becoming an outcast.

I slipped one slender leg out of bed and then the other. I stepped into red plush slippers, a gift I received from one of my many aunts two Christmases ago. I stretched my arms over my head. The sleeves of my nightgown fell past my elbows as I light out a loud yawn.

I made my way down the long hallway of the upper floor of my house to reach the bathroom. I shut the door behind me and went to the sink, where I proceeded to wash my face. I splashed cold water on myself, making myself become even more awake.

I went back to my room to continue to dress myself. I decided on a white blouse and a navy jumper. I tied a red ribbon in my hair to keep it pushed away from my face. I slipped on my stocking and then put brown dress shoes on. I thought it was an appropriate outfit for the day.

The smell of eggs and toast wafted up the stairs and into my room. I knew that breakfast was ready. I darted downstairs, not once losing my balance or slipping on the polished staircase.

My mother was waiting for me in the dining room. She was not eating or sitting down, however she looked anxious to see me. Cynthia must have already eaten because the maid was now clearing a near-empty plate and she was no where in sight.

"Do you have to tell me something Mother?" I asked. She was fiddling with the end of her sleeves. It was a nervous habit that she always had.

"Mary, I heard you screaming in your sleep last night again." My mother placed her fingers by her temples and lightly massaged them. This is what she was worried about. Lately, along with my episodes I have been talking in my sleep. No, not talking – screaming. My parents would wake me up when it first started, but when they shook me out of the daze, I had no recollection of the dream. Eventually, they gave up trying to come to my rescue every time they heard my screams in the middle of the night. It was almost a nightly thing now.

"Mother, I can assure you, everything will be fine. I probably just had a bad dream." It seemed like that was the only thing I could tell her before she thought that I was losing my mind. Is that was this was coming to? Was I losing my mind? Was I slowly slipping into insanity like the rest of my family secretly feared?

My mother muttered something under her breath that I could not understand. She left me alone in the dining room.

My food was soon brought out to me. I could barely eat any of the scrambled eggs and I took two bites of my toast. When my mother passed through the dining room, I made a show of eating my eggs. I did not want her worrying about my eating habits on top of anything else she worried about me. I was always slim, but I have been losing weight because of my decreased appetite. All of my clothes hung loosely off of my petite frame and my face had become sullen. I looked sickly half of the time.

I sat up, hastily throwing my napkin on the table. I ran upstairs so I could read my daily scripture before I had to go off to school. Maybe reading something _good_ could help me forget all of the _bad_.

I entered my room and shut the door behind me. I pulled my Bible out of my desk drawer and turned to the verse my mother assigned. I began to read it out loud. It was from the book of Proverbs:

_Trust in the Lord with all your heart_

_And lean not on your own understanding_

_In all your ways acknowledge him_

_And he shall direct your path_

I took a moment to reflect on the verse. That was when the worst thing possible could have happened.

The Bible fell out of my hands with a loud thud on my floor. My eyes widened and I stared straight ahead of me, though I could not see anything. My vision blurred and eventually blackened. I focused on the image coming to my mind.

_There was a dark room. There was only one tiny, barred window and the door was not able to be opened from where she was. Her short hair stood on end. There was a growl. Two burgundy eyes watched her from the top of a window. She shrieked, but no one could hear her. No one could ever hear her. She was left alone in the world. As good as dead. Who would want such a freak for a daughter? She was never normal. Why did she pretend? Another growl. The eyes disappeared. The door to the room slowly opened…_

I collapsed to the floor. My body hitting the floor made a loud sound, causing my mother to rush upstairs to my bedroom. Cynthia crept up behind her. I could hear her calling my name, hoping I would open my eyes. I opened one and then the other, regaining my vision. I did not want my mother to see me after one of my episodes. I knew that they scared her as much has they scared me.

My mother wrapped her arms around me and began to sob. I did not know why it upset her. I did not even know if my episodes were that terrible. Cynthia ran out of my room, obviously frightened.

"Mother, what's happening to me?" I asked. I did not cry. I never cried, even when both my mother and sister did over my condition. If they weren't going to be strong about it, someone had to be.

"I don't know. I honestly don't know." I stood up, showing my mother that I would be fine.

I have been asking my mother the same question, receiving the same response for the past few years. At first, my mother did not know of my condition. I tried to hide it. Whenever I saw something, I just brushed it off. Then, one day, I was playing dolls with Cynthia. My gaze became dreamy and she was snapping her fingers to try and get me out of it. That was the first day that I saw Jasper.

_He said he was looking for a better life then he was currently living. His burgundy eyes seemed fierce, but with the capability to love someone. His gorgeous honey blonde hair was tied back, pieces falling in his face. He stormed away from the others, never to look back on them._

When that happened, Cynthia called for my mother. At first, she thought I was epileptic and should be taken to the doctor to be examined. That excuse worked for the time. She explained to other family members that my condition was merely epilepsy, but we both knew that it was so much more than that. Then, my episodes only happened every few months. Now, they are happening every few days.

"You can go back to what you were doing. I will be fine. I would be ready to leave for school soon." I told my mother and smiled slightly, trying to look well. My mother was not fully convinced but she left me there anyway.

I fingered the gold cross that hung around my neck, remembering the verse I was instructed to read today. I got on my need and folded my hands, praying that I would understand why it was all happening to me, of all people. I finished praying, not certain if God heard me. I have been praying like that for years and there was no response yet.

I looked at Jasper, my stuffed bear on my bed. I remembered the Jasper from my episodes. There might have been a reason for these episodes -these visions- after all.

I collected all of my belongings and headed downstairs.

"Bye, Mother. I am leaving." I called. She appeared in the doorway by me.

"Are you sure that you are feeling well? Do you want to stay home from school today?" She asked. I would not let my condition consume my life like it has been doing lately. I shook my head and left.

I thought that maybe that through the course of the day, God would answer me.

I highly doubted it.


	3. Witchs Trials for a Ballerina

**A/N: I am sorry for the slowish updates, but I have an extremely demanding schedual. Luckily, chapter four is pretty much written, and I will post it sometime this week. Between colorguard, reading Eclipse (!!!), Family Values tour, and my APUSH workshop, I am not sure when Ican exactly update next. But hopefully it won't be that long. Sorry that the chapters go so slow. I am just trying to make everything detailed so you can understand Alice's life. The next few chapters I planned will be intense though. Sorry for the long note. Anyway, please review! 9goal for five reviews telling what you think of the story)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. Let me go play with ym razorblades now...XD**

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The rest of the day made my morning seem completely perfect.

I walked to school with the sun beating down on my back. My pace quicken, as I was certain that I would be tardy due to my episode this morning. When I was hurrying, I did not happen to notice everyone around me. I ran into my one teacher, Mr. Johnson.

"I am terribly sorry," I apologized, my breathy voice shaking. He did not respond. He simply scowled and entered the building. He never really did like me, after I had one of my episodes in his class and disrupted his lesson. The school bell chimed and I went to class.

I took my desk, which was in the furthest corner in the back of the room. No one sat in the desk in front of me, or in the desk beside e. I was an outsider, a peculiar girl that the rest of the girls did not want to associate with. The boys did not speak with me either.

Mr. Johnson entered the classroom and everyone immediately fell silent. We were beginning history class, a class that held no particular interest of mine. I was more concerned for the future.

He had us open our history text books. We were learning about the early United States. Most of the time, I wrote poetry or stories during this class. I was about to start writing something new; a brand new poem.

_Close my eyes _

_And then I dream _

_See your face _

_Let out a scream _

_The future's real _

_The past forgotten _

_Know your name _

_See you often _

I was interrupted from my writing when Mr. Johnson called my name out.

"Ms. Brandon, please pay attention," he requested. A blush crept up on my cheeks. People turned around to look at me. I let my hair fall over my face, creative a type of curtain. That was how I wanted to stay for the rest of the class.

Mr. Johnson continued the day's lecture. It was about the Salem witch trials. He was going into great detail. The lecture grasped my attention immediately.

"In that time, being different was a crime. If you did not follow the same religion or same beliefs as the majority of the town, you were automatically accused of witchcraft. Women were burned at the stake frequently. They were burned for things such as having visions of the future or other…conditions of that nature. It was a terrible time. That would never happen today," Mr. Johnson explained.

A few girls snickered and looked back at me when he was describing the persecution for the conditions. Some heads turned and eyes burned holes through me. I even heard a girl, Jennifer, whisper to her friend "Let's put Mary on the stake." Most people new about my condition from what happened a month prior.

_I was sitting in class, not paying much attention. Then, I got that strange feeling that I usually had when I had an episode. My head tilted to the side and my stare was blank. I sat up completely straight. At first no one noticed but then I was called upon to answer a question. When I did not respond, everyone turned to look at me. _

_I saw myself alone in the woods. No one was with me. I did not feel the need to scream. My hunger, thirst rather, was burning my throat. _

_I then fell out of my desk, hitting my head on the floor. Mr. Johnson called the school nurse in to come get me. She suspected it was epilepsy. I was sent home, but everyone continued talking about it. _

That is how it was ever since.

The school bell rang, and I left the classroom, ecstatic that I was finished in there.

The rest of the school day went by as normal. I made it through the rests of my classes without having any episodes. I was alone during lunch. I sat at the farthest table and conversed with no one the entire time. I was fine with being alone. It just meant that no one would wonder when you were gone.

I skipped down the stone steps in the front of the school at the end of the day, eager to get to my ballet lessons. The dance studio was not far from the school, fortunately. I was eager to get there. When I was dancing, I tended to forget my problems. The ninety minutes in the studio was my sanctuary.

Crossing the street, I saw several girls from my class pass me by. They were smiling and laughing with each other. Once they saw me, they fell silent. Jennifer, the same girl who made the comment about me earlier, strode towards me. She had a smirk on her face. I was not in the mood to have a confrontation with her. If I stayed to talk to her, I would surely be late for my ballet lesson.

"Mary!" Jennifer called, her golden, tumbling curls pinned perfectly to the side, bounced as she approached. I inhaled deeply, not certain of what she wanted with me.

"Hello," I said to Jennifer, at loss of what I could have possibly told her.

Jennifer said no more to me. She clutched a folded piece of parchment in her hand. It appeared to be a note. No one ever passed me a note before. She held it out in front of my face, something that was easy since she was about six inches taller than I happened to be. I seized the note and the pranced back to her group of giggling friends.

I opened the note anxiously. I wondered what was written on it. I carefully unfolded it, not wanting to tear it. One the paper read one simple word, scripted in elegant cursive.

_witch. _

I glanced at the group of girls. They were laughing at me, not even trying to suppress their giggles. I hurried away, not letting the girls get a look of my red face. I promised myself that I wouldn't let these incidents get to me. I am only human, so I could not stop myself from crying over the silly note. Witch. That's what they thought that I was. I was shameful enough of my condition; they had no right to make me feel worse.

My tears stopped as soon as I entered the studio. I went into the dressing room so I could change. I slipped my white tights over my already pale legs; the milky hue of my legs almost matching them. The black leotard glided up my body in one swift motion. I tied my red point shoes quickly, letting my hands do the familiar motion. I pulled my hair back into a bun and then I was ready to dance.

I walked into the room I have grown to know and love. I took my place at the bar, seven other girls falling in behind me. I placed my hand on the smooth, wooden bar and began my stretches.

I extended my arm over my head, brought it out, extended my leg, and repeated it. I went on my toes and fluttered in the same spot for two minutes. I remember how when I was just learning, I could barely stay on my toes for thirty seconds.

Madam Jennet entered the room, clapping her hands to have us get into position. I took mine in the front and center of the room. It was a coveted spot and I was fortunate enough to get it assigned to me.

"Five, six, five, six, seven, eight!" She counted, clapping her hands to the rhythm.

The music picked up and I bound up and down the room in a fashion that broke the other dancers' hearts. I flowed with the music, becoming one with it. I lost myself in the dance completely.

During my solo the worst thing possible could have happened.

I got that strange feeling I usually get when I have an episode. I fell off of my toes and stared straight ahead. The music was drowned out by the voices in my head

_"Mary Alice Brandon," said a man's husky voice. You are here so we can help you. You will not be possessed any longer. She cried and cried, begged to not be sent to a place like that. It was of no use. She was there for the rest of her life, destined to be cut short. No one was there to really help her. She was there so they would not have to deal with the whispers and murmurs of the town. She reluctantly was left there, her whole life left behind her. It was worth than death could be. Within there, she found a pair of friendly, topaz eyes… _

My vision ended and I collapsed against the floor, hitting my head on the bar on my way down. I heard the music stop, and the rush of the other girls coming towards me.

Dance was the only time I was not viewed at as an outcast. No one there, besides my sister at least, has witnessed me having an episode. As far as I was concerned, until today no one there knew I had a condition.

I felt the cool hands of Madame Jennet on my forehead. My eyes fluttered open and all I wanted to do was burst into tears.

"Mary, are you alright?" She asked, her voiced laced with concern.

"I'm fine," I managed to mutter, standing up. My normal vision returned to focus. I looked at all the worried faces staring back up at me. Cynthia strolled over towards me, squeezing my arm.

"Are you sure you are fine?" She mouthed. I nodded and took my normal place on the dance floor. I smiled, trying to have everyone believe that I simply feinted.

"Why is everyone so worried? I am sure I just feinted because I need to eat something," I said to Madame Jennet. She believed my lie and told the other girls to get into formation so we can restart the dance.

I sighed as I began the dance again, losing me in the music once more, glad that my secret was not discovered there.


	4. Melodies of a Dream

**A/N: Here it is, chapter 4. I just finished it, even though I am dragging from Family Values Tour yesterday. 9 hours of being in the heat hehe. I never felt more grimy in my life. Anyway, I am working on chapter 5 right now, so expect it soon. By the way, Eclipse was AMAZING in my opinion. **

**Disclaimer: If I did actually own the Twilight series, I would be in Hawaii right now from the profits of the amazing books. But where am I? My boring room. SOn't own. yada yada ya.**

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After my rather eventful day, I was barely active. I went through the motions of what I normally did. I finished all of my homework, I played with Cynthia when she asked, I vaguely described my day to my parents, and I threw in a smile and giggle here or there. My mind was somewhere else entirely.

I was constantly reflecting on my visions that I had today. I was trying my hardest to comprehend them. Both were very…morbid in a sense. I know that I was the star in both visions. They were not as comforting as the ones with Jasper, the angel of my visions I have become infatuated with. Those visions were filled with hope, love, and comfort, even if they were of him angry or upset. I felt like when I had those visions, I was giving part of myself to him, as I have a part of him as well.

These visions caused me to scream in agony. They were pain, suffering, and unhappiness. They showed that I was alone and that I was in darkness.

It was pathetic how those episodes caused my once present smile to be vacant from my face for days at a time.

After my nightly routine was complete, I settled into my comfortable bed. I pulled the covers up to around my neck and my arm was slung around my Jasper bear. After a few soothing breaths, I let the darkness wash over me and drifted into my dream land.

_There we were. It was me and Jasper, finally united. We were in the wilderness somewhere. The night time sky gleamed with stars, almost more lovely than Jasper's bare skin when exposed to sunlight that I have seen in a previous vision. His eyes lost their startling shade of burgundy and were now a brilliant topaz. His eyes put the finest jewelry made to shame. _

_He walked over to where I was, sitting on a log in front of the light of a fire. He rested a marble hand on my shoulder. It was supposed to be hard, but for some reason it felt normal to me. I turned my head, breathing in the glorious scent of Jasper's skin. I pressed my lips lightly to his hand and he dropped down beside me. _

_Our eyes locked and I felt like I was looking into him, knowing his deepest secrets, his personal struggled, and his love. With him I was complete, whole. We did not speak at all, rather conversing with our eyes. _

_In the topaz irises, I saw myself. I was pale, light purple circles formed under my dazzling gold eyes. My hair was short and untamable. It was sticking out in every which way. Jasper's hair was longer than mine was. _

_He entangled his fingers in my cropped, black hair and pulled me closer to him so I can feel his icy breath on my face. Our lips crashed together with impeccable force. This was what I was waiting for my entire life. _

_Jasper placed on hand on the small of my back and his other large hand cupped my face. Our love was unexplainable. Our love was mystical. Our love kept me bright through this time of darkness, even though we have not met so far._

_We broke apart and instantaneously a wave of calm rushed over my body. I sighed to myself. _

_"Jasper," I said, no louder than a whisper. _

_Out of the forest, a pair of red eyes loomed over Jasper and I, a figure emerging, with the movements of a feral cat. Jasper jumped and let out a grizzly snarl, as I back away from the figure. The figure lunged towards me but I moved out of the way with impeccable speed. However, that did not stop my screaming. _

_"Jasper," I screamed, "Jasper, help! I can not do this by myself" I emitted a deep growl, a trait that I did not think I was capable of possessing. _

"Mary, Mary! Wake up," a voice screamed. I was being shaken vigorously by the large arms of my father. I continued to snarl, not realizing that they could hear.

My eyes popped open and I screamed some more.

"Jasper!" I screamed, letting out a throaty roar.

"Mary, calm yourself down!" my mother shouted, her voice shaken.

I collapsed onto the floor and started to breathe heavily.

"What were you dreaming about?" My father asked, looking me square in the eye. I clenched my jaw and breathed in. I closed my eyes and tried to remember what exactly I had been dreaming about. Nothing came to mind. As far as I was concerned, I was incapable of having dreams due to my trouble of recalling those moments after I wake.

"I can't recall what I was dreaming," I said out loud, to no one in particular.

"Surely, you do. Just think harder." My mother urged. My bottom lip began to tremble.

"I can never remember. What do you think is different this time," I shouted, losing my temper. It was rare for me to be enraged and raise my voice to my parents. I fell back onto my bed, curling myself into a ball as my parents left my room. I could still hear their voices murmuring outside.

"We should take her to a hospital," my mother suggested.

"What can they do for her there?" my father retorted.

"We can not leave her to suffer like this. What if she is ill?"

"She does not look ill to me."

"You know what ill I was speaking of."

I could not listen in on their conversation any longer. I buried my tear stained face into my pillow, breathing in the scent of detergent. I screamed, the pillow muffling the sound I made so my parents could barely hear it.

Everything made no sense anymore. I was a perfectly healthy girl at one time.

My parents re entered my room. I was less then thrilled at what they might have to say to me.

I sat up and tugged at my nightdress. My stomach did a flip inside me. I pushed myself up against the backboard of my bed, leaning against my overstuffed pillow. My mother reached over to me to tuck my hair behind my ear, but I jerked my head away, I hugged my legs to me chest and rested my chin on my knees.

"Mary, your behavior is beginning to scare us," my father said flatly. My large, blue eyes gazed up at him. His forehead was creased in worry.

"I apologize. I do not know what as come over me," I near whispered.

My mother wrapped her satin robe around herself tighter. Her lips were pursed and her expression was as if she just ate something sour.

I heard the creak of a door open down the hall. My mother placed her hand to her forehead and paced back and forth.

Cynthia shuffle into my room, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. She took a place next to my mother.

"What's going on?" she asked, letting a large yawn escape.

"Nothing," my mother, father, and I replied in unison. She looked frightened – poor girl.

My mother leaded Cynthia back into her room. She did not return for a few minutes. Cynthia was obviously bothering my mother to tell her what was going on.

My father did not say a word when he was alone in here with me. The silence was occasionally broken by a cough or my heavy breathing from my recent outburst. As I waited for my mother, I began to notice every miniscule detail. I could hear the crickets chirp somewhere in the room, creating their own special melody. I noticed the intensity of the stars and the way that the moon shone through the window. The lightly falling rain was soothing. I wanted to imprint these simple things into my memory. If I was indeed becoming mentally ill, I would want something pleasant to remember.

When my mother came back into the room, she let out an exasperate sigh. She took her place next to my father and he wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulder.

I bit my lower lip out of nervousness. I waited patiently to the rhythm of the ticking second hand of the clock while my parents thought of the right words to say to me. The words that would make everything seem acceptable. Deep down, I knew that no amount of words could describe it.

"Mary, we will find a way to help you," my mother said, the strain in her voice indicating that she was attempting to hold back tears.

I needed to believe what my parents told me.

They left my room and flicked out my lights. I sat in the same position, legs curled up to my chest, listening to the pitter patter of the rain. I hummed a familiar lullaby. Sleep was impossible and I sat there near-lifeless, until the brilliant sun rose over the horizon and shone with promise of a new day into my bedroom.


	5. The Church Episode

**A/N: So sorry it has been forever since I updated. I have had barely any time possible ot work on it. As summer is ending, I have been INSANELY busy. I just had bandcamp this past week and I am doing all my summer work still I haven't finished. Wednesday, I am seeing RENT on broadway again because now Adam Pascal is back in it and I am in love with him. sigh. Well, here it is! I love reviews, even ones in the form of constructive criticism.**

**Disclaimer: If I owned Twilight, I wouldn't be doing this.**

* * *

Sunday mornings were always my favorite. I would get to dress in my best clothes and have the warm pastries that were always lying on the table before I would go off to church with my family. I would wear some of my mother's perfume and they would show off Cynthia and I like we were the light of their lives to all of the other church goers.

I wore a simple white dress that flowed down to my knees with a red sweater over it. My long hair was secured in braids and my shoes were freshly polished. I sprayed some of my mothers lilac perfume on myself. I had slight bruises under my eyes because I have not been sleeping all that well. I figured that it was better to get no sleep at all then to fall into deep slumber and be haunted by the nightmares that caused my family panic.

The sun that shone through my window warmed my body. I closed my eyes and let myself feel the warmth of it without any distractions. The ends of my lips curled up and I began to fantasize of a world where my condition was normal and that everyone depended on it rather than fear it.

As I held my wrists up so the sun could warm them, my mother's voice called from the base of the stairs.

"Girls, we are leaving in five minutes. Come down here!" I heard Cynthia obediently close her door and skip down the stairs to join my parents in the foyer. I slowly opened my eyes, adjusting to the light. After making sure that I looked presentable enough, I took my time walking out into the hallway then down the staircase. I fingered the gold cross around my neck. It was smooth and it felt good to be reminded of something good.

In the foyer, my mother was straightening Cynthia's dress and pushing her hair out of her face. When she saw that I now joined them, she clapped her hands together and put a fake smile on her face.

"All ready to go?" My mother asked. I nodded and Cynthia muttered a quick 'yes' before my father opened the door for us. I followed my parents and my sister, but I was always two steps behind them, quietly in the background. I intended to stay that way. If I was as good as invisible, maybe my condition would go unnoticed and I could fall under the pretense of normal.

When I entered the old church, I followed my parents to the polished pews that we sat in every Sunday since I could remember. Before the service began, my mother chatted with some of the other ladies about the latest happenings with all the women in the church. I was not interested in conversation and I picked at my nails as I waited for the pastor to start the sermon.

We heard the beginning of a familiar song played on the piano and I stood up with the rest of the people attending the service that morning. I let my soprano voice glide over the melody played by the piano and closed my eyes, letting the words to the song flow out of my lips effortlessly. My voice blended with those around me and I began to let my mind wander to a place where I could be left in peace.

When I heard the ending chords from the piano fade, I opened my eyes and sat back down. I folded my doll-like hands on my lap and stared out at nothing in particular. Cynthia whispered something in my ear, but it did not register to me until she was back to where she was, facing forward and pulling at a loose thread on her skirt.

The pastor began the sermon. I could not be quite sure what he was discussing. I was only catching bits and pieces of it because of my fatigue. My mother glanced over at me to see if I was paying close attention to the sermon. I straightened my self up and bit my lip, focusing my eyes on the pastor and fighting the wave of fatigue so I could concentrate. Obviously, I must have been something that pertained closely to me because my mother and father both kept shooting eager glances at me after certain key phrases.

I felt that all too familiar feeling posses me. My face went blank and my eyes were dim. I was not sure if my parents noticed or not. I couldn't see anything around me. I was focused on the scene playing for my inside my mind.

_There were the eyes again. She was locked in the dark, dank room. The plain face of the monster gazed at her with such ferocity, a chill went up her spine. Her tear stained face was covered in smudges and looked like it was a while since it was properly washed. Her voice was no louder than a whisper, the intensity lost from the constant screaming. Her eyes conveyed no sign of hope. She was so full of pessimism; you could feel it in the air. The red eyes followed her as she backed herself up to a corner and curled herself up into a fetal position. She emitted a whine but realized that no one would care and they were not listening to her cries any longer. _

_Suddenly, strong, cold arms created an iron cage around the petite girl and carried her away. The way the man ran, it was if she was flying with him. The wind whipped her and blew her short hair all over the place. She pressed her cheek against the granite body. The, they stop and he set her down on a forest floor. He crouched down over her and murmured a rushed "I love you. I am so sorry" and pressed his lips to her throat. His razor sharp teeth pierced her skin and she let out a scream. _

_All too quickly, the fire started swimming through her veins. The fire was more torment added to her already ominous life. She writhed in pain on the ground. The fire was in her neck. She wanted to clamp her hands around the base of her throat to try to subdue the pain but it was impossible. She could no longer control her movements. _

"The fire! Put out the fire!" I screamed. Hot tears streamed down my face. I began to thrash wildly. I fell out of the pew and was writhing in agony on the floor of the church. My dress was up to my mid thigh and I threw my head back and let out another piercing scream.

"Please, **somebody**, stop the fire. Ahh, my neck. God save me!" I screamed and continued to feel the fire from my vision. It was burning my blood and drying myself. It was worse than acid destroying my body. It spread through me more and the burning increased.

Everyone in the church began to whisper and look at me. All heads were turned to see why I was causing such a commotion.

My father ran and scooped me up into his arms.

"Mary," he pleaded, his voice shaking. Sweat was trickling down my forehead and the muscled in my neck were strained. My teeth were clamped together to try and stop my screams.

As quickly as the vision and my fit started, I snapped out of it. My body went limp and I looked around me. All eyes were on my and mouths hung open in horror. I wiped my cheek with my hand and tried to get rid of the tears that were streaming from my eyes just seconds earlier.

"Wh-why is everyone looking at me?" I asked my father innocently. My mother raised her hand over her open mouth. My father took me by the hand and led me out of the sanctuary.

* * *

The service ended early on the behalf of my episode. The pastor called my parents into his office so he could discuss my episode with them.

Cynthia sat by me on the wooden bench right outside of the church. She placed a hand on my shoulder. People passed me and whispered about what could have happened. I heard what they were saying, but I kept my eyes down and focused on the blades of grass that were in dire need of being cut.

I did not know how long it had been. Cynthia and I were the only ones still sitting outside the church. My parents' voices chimed behind me; they were strained and my mother's sounded as if she was crying.

I tuned my head to look at their faces. It looked as if they were keeping a secret – a secret that could change me. I inhaled sharply and I followed my parents and sister, ready to go home.

I was back in my room; my place of solitude. I dashed up here as soon as I got home. My mother said she had to talk to me about what happened today, but she had yet to come upstairs.

I needed something that could occupy my thoughts until she came. I looked at a wooden dollhouse from when I was younger in the corner of my room. I examined the chipped, mint green paint and thought that I was much too old to be playing with dolls. I saw my point shoes strewn across my floor. I was not in a pleasant enough mood to dance. Typically, dancing cheers me up, but today I doubt that it would. I ambled over to my book shelf to try and find something interesting to read. I ran my finger across the titles over books that I have read two or three time and stopped when I hit a book without writing embossed on its spine.

I slipped the book out of its cozy place between the other two books. I opened it up and saw fresh, blank pages ready for the emotion to leak onto them. A faint smile traced my lips. Finally, I had some way to express all of the mixed emotions that were hitting me like a hurricane.

I threw myself onto my bed with a pen and the blank book in hand. I opened to the inside cover and, in elegant script, wrote my name. I turned to the first page and began to scribble anything and everything that came to mind.

My door swung open, revealing my mother.

"Mary Alice, I think I need to have a word with you."


End file.
